Page 116 of The Holiday Heartbreaker

“Things have been difficult for them,” Charity said.

“I know.”

“You and Brody are...close,” Charity said.

“I don’t know about that. Well. I guess so.”

There was really no point hiding the truth. She didn’t have the energy to do it. And Charity was far too canny, anyway.

“I’ve known Lachlan since he was sixteen years old. I still don’t always know what he’s thinking. I worry about him. He’s as unforgiving to himself as his father used to be.”

“Whoever said time heals all wounds hadn’t seen some of the injuries that can be inflicted on people,” Elizabeth said. “I really do believe in healing, but you have to seek treatment.”

Charity smiled. “Well. That is very true. And some men are too hardheaded to do anything half so sensible. They’d rather rub dirt in it and pretend it isn’t there.”

Of course, Elizabeth could be that way too. Always pushing ahead, not being fully honest or aware of the things that she was dealing with.

She had transformed her identity into being there for someone else, rather than doing work on herself. Had created a facade that she always hoped no one would see through.

She was working on that now. She really was. Because of Brody.

“And some men just pretend they don’t have a wound at all,” Elizabeth said, thinking of Brody.

“Lachlan is my best friend,” Charity said. “But even I don’t know everything they’ve been through. I know... I know it was different for Brody.”

“No one is that sympathetic to him,” Elizabeth said.

“I don’t know if the McClouds are all that familiar with sympathy. Or care of any kind. It was...brutal here for them.”

“For Brody too,” Elizabeth said, feeling insistent.

“I know.” Charity drained the rest of her cider and looked over at her father. “I should probably get him home.”

Lachlan and Brody had just finished up in the kitchen.

“Lachlan,” she said, “we should go.”

“Sure,” Lachlan said.

“Thank you again,” Charity said.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

It was dark outside, and when Elizabeth opened the door for everyone, she realized that it was snowing, the twilight making the snow glow blue.

It was beautiful out there. Perfect and silent. Like Christmas ought to be. Or so the song said.

There was something holy about it.

She closed the door and turned, looking at Brody. “Merry Christmas, Brody,” she said.

“You keep saying that.”

“I know. Because I want you to feel it.”

“I don’t know that Christmas is ever going to mean all that much to me. But it was a nice day.”

“I’m glad.”

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